2237-06-03 - Awards BBQ - Bar

The bar portion of the Awards BBQ. There is lots of booze, lots of introductions, and a pilot goes down in flames. TWICE.

Date: 2237-06-03

Location: Beach Bar - Scorpia

Related Scenes: None

Plot: None

Scene Number: 780

Jump to End

An open-air beachfront bar. Inspiration: https://cdn.atlantishotel.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/04/PG-50Bar-01.jpg

Leonie holds up a finger to her lips and gives Jonas a scowl and a loud shhhh when he mentions ID. Abigail gets a sunny smile, and a little tip of one brow to the man in question.

Katja stands off to the side while she waits for her 'something with rum in it' to be made. When the brunette near her suddenly greets her, Katja offers a brief grin and a nod. She lets the woman get all the words out of her system, brow arching ever so slightly. "Yeah. I just transferred in today actually. Kind of not what I expected. Katja Madsen," she says, offering her hand for a shake. But then she gets distracted and looks down at what comes from ordering 'something with rum in it' and cocks her head to the side slightly before taking the cherried up murky green drink that gets handed to her. "You didn't just make this up did you?" she directs to the bartender and then grabs it anyways, but clearly decides to wait for the other woman as she waits for her drink.

"Yes." Abigail isn't going to beat around the bush, as the question is posed to her. "I also submitted recommendations for Rhodes and Hayes, as I'm sure others did as well." She falls back, as Jonas seems to have decided on a direction, her words barrel carrying between them, "We're all doing our duty. No reason we should not also be recognized for it when the situation warrants it." Her own smile is offered to Leonie, as they come up behind the younger woman. She's not touching the ID thing.

Erin's drink comes soon after. Like Katja, she doesn't initially recognize it, and holds it up to the light for a second. "Strange. I expected it to look less like a colloid." Erin sighs, and then lowers the drink. "I suppose a rookie ought not be so critical, though, yes?" Whatever that means.

"Madson, I'm Hayes. Erin Hayes. Marine." She holds up her drink again, in solidarity and as a salute. "Welcome to the Timber Wolves." And then, Erin chugs down the beverage. One, two, three swallows. Not that she was supposed to chug a cocktail. That -- that can't be good; however, she doesn't immediately regurgitate it back into the cup. She just puts the latter down, swallows the last bit, and then looks like she's about to chuck.

"Don't even know where you'd stick an ID anywhere..." Jonas starts to say and then holds up a hand. "No, I don't want to know." he offers with a little laugh; before he ohs. "Abigail, this is Leonie, my little sister and Viper jock. Leonie, this is Abigail Walker, Marine and salvage expert."

Aubrey sidles up to the bar, looking for Abigail, and spots her BFF. She heads her way with a grin. "I can't believe I got awards. You got awards! Bad enough they let you near explosives but they give you prizes for it too!" she teases. "Think they can make strawberry daiquiris?" She drapes her arms over Abigail and Jonas' shoulders. The height difference makes it look insane but who cares?

Leonie looks over at the woman chugging rum, and raises both brows slowly. Huh. Glancing back to Jonas, she takes up a lean of one hip against the bar, slipping her aviators off. "No, don't ask." A smirk. Her eyes skim over Abigail now that she has a chance, but with someone who looks like her friend approaching, she doesn't intrude. Instead, she tries to find the big guy who was chatting to her earlier, whom she's lost track of. Social etiquette? Not her forte.

"We have a way of being creative," is Abigail's comment on stick IDs on one's person, "Good to meet you, Leonie, Jonas tells me you're with the Wolves. Welcome." A grin, as she hears Aubrey coming up, "Not just near explosives. Near very large, very impressive explosives." A hand rises, to touch Aubrey's wrist, the one attached to the arm draped over her shoulder, "Bree, you know Jonas," of course, "This is his sister, Leonie also Ingvar. Leonie, this is my sister, in all the ways that matter, Aubrey Naxos. Also a Viper stick."

It's all right that Leonie was wool gathering and totally blew him off. Dundonnell's feelings are not hurt. The Jarhead drinks his cold cider and for the moment is only standing around in his black tank and blue swim trunks. It's his turn to be eying the inviting water and probably thinking about a swim.

"Are you a rookie at drinking in general or just a rookie at drinking swamp water?" The woman's accent is most definitely Aquarian through and through. Katja lifts her drink to salute Erin back. "Well it's good meeting you Erin. Thanks." She watches as Erin starts to chug her cocktail suddenly, merely sipping hers casually. "Wow. Frak. Are you okay?" Her hand reaches out tentatively towards the woman and then she looks around for something that might catch drink and other things in it. Bucket, anything.

The place is quickly turning into a viper nest, and Leonie looks from Abigail to Aubrey with an awkward smile and wiggle of fingers. "Hello. I felt a bit silly standing around for an awards ceremony when I've been deployed to Vanguard for all of a day. Is this a common thing around here?" Spotting Dundonnell collecting his cider, she watches him a moment, and flashes a smile should he tear himself away from eyeing the water long enough to look her way.

Webb comes in and wanders up to the bar. He gives a wave to some of the pilots who are gathered, but ends up next to Dundonnell. The big guy gets an upnod of greetin while Webb waits to get the barkeep's attention.

With Leonie looking around for someone, Jonas lifts his brow for a moment, and then grins. "Sorry, Gale, Bree, seems little sis has eyes out for someone else tonight." He settles up at the bar, catching that smile out of the corner of his eye and glances from Leonie to Dundonnell and gives a little smirk before his attention turns to Katja and Erin and their accents. "Hey. Thula. You?"

"Hey blond guy's sister! Good to meet you!" Aubrey greets Leonie. She smooches Abigail's cheek. "Just don't blow up anything near me, sis, k?" She looks back at the younger Ingvar with a grin. "You can call me Aubrey or Banshee, whichever is easier. I'm Jigger's wingman." She waves to Webb from across the bar.

Erin doesn't elaborate on her lack of experience. Nope. Not for a few seconds while -- what the frak was in that drink? -- runs through her digestive system like abusive Dran-o. A few seconds later, and she draws in a breath, sets aside her glass, and then says to Katja, quietly, "I don't think I'll be doing that again." Blood seems to be returning to her face now. Two blinks, and she'll be even more composed.

"Well? Welcome." Erin frowns, and then makes a vague gesture. "Thanks for the concern. Wouldn't have made a good impression if I threw up on you." She turns her head to look at the other bar-goers that have arrived. "And here comes the cavalry."

Dundonnell is probably not a pilot. He's too frak'n big to fit into a cockpit without a can opener to get him back out again. Must be a Marine with all those tats being a dead giveaway, one of them being obviously a Colonial Marines thing on his upper left arm. He turns his head when Webb comes up, "Howdy. You with the Vanguard?" His baritone is accented with the flavours of Aerilon.

"We've had...two ceremonies so far? I think it's likely to be more common than in other units, given that we'll be out at the bleeding edge of the war. We're already seeing more than our fair share of attrition." Which is both true, and depressing, so best to change the subject. "I will do my best, but make no promises to a woman who flies a nuclear reactor strapped to a tylium bomb on a daily basis. I'll see what I can convince the bartender to make for you." And then she does take a step or two, so that she can actually ask after the daiquiri.

"Oi, Banshee," Webb calls back over to Aubrey when she waves at him. He nods then to Dundonnell. "Aye that's right. CAG, actually. Spider. You're with the boots?" Fair guess.

Leonie might just be being polite. Jonas knows her well enough to know she's not much of a flirt. "Banshee. Got it. I'm not so good with names." She twists a lopsided smile at Aubrey, and gives Jonas a shove as he passes by. Likely for his comment. Abigail gets a little nod of understanding, and she gratefully sips her drink when it arrives.

Dundonnell gives an 'ah' to what Webb says, "CAG, yes sir. Friends call me Squish. I was on the Galatica, then got sent out for training to upgrade my MOS. The Van see'n a lot of action, Sir?" Leonie is safe because her boss has distracted the Jarhead.

"Sounds wise," Katja says with a small smile. "I think I'll just suffer it out and sip mine." She nods back to Erin and shifts her weight over to one foot as she scans the bar area. "So what do y-" She's suddenly distracted by the inquiry. "Outskirts of Heim." There's a blink and a noticable broadening of her smile that reaches her eyes. "It's good to hear a friendly accent." Then she takes that moment to take a gulp or two of that green drink. "I'm Katja Madsen. Do you two know each other?" She looks between Jonas and Erin.

"True, Abby, but I don't get shot up nearly as much as Jigger does, so I think I'm safe," Aubrey quips to Abigail. She grins back at Webb. "Am I gonna get a dance out of you tonight, Spider?!" she shouts across the bar. Surely she is pressing her luck with the CAG.

Outskirts of Heim. Katja was a lucky one then. "In passing." Jonas offers as he grins across at Erin. "We both were just given an award I don't think either of us expected. Way for Aquaria to represent, right?" he asks with a glance towards Katja before Leonie shoves him and he flicks her ear in return. "What did you want to drink, Gale? Leonie?"

Webb finally hails the bartender and orders a drink. "More than our share, I reckon," he says to Dundonnel, "But I've got no complaints. Rather be in the thick of it than watching from the sidelines." He smirks over at Aubrey. "Doesn't seem like a dancing kind of place, Banshee," he calls back.

Left alone and relatively unassailed for the moment, Leonie sips her drink like it's going out of style. Her eyes tick over at mention of Aquaria and Heim, and Katja is studied curiously for a few moments. "Another limoncello, if you're offering," she tells Jonas sweetly, leaning her head against his shoulder for a moment in comically exaggerated affection.

Erin does have that Aquarian accent. It was just covered up by the need to vomit up whatever what was in that horrid drink she was served. She looks from Katja to Jonas, and then back to the latter. "Mm-hmm." Beat. "In passing." She smiles momentarily. "We get shot at a lot, us Aquarians. We also have a bad habit of surviving." She leans against the bar counter behind her, setting her arms back on it. Leonie catches her attention, then, and, for that, Erin lightly kicks at Jonas' shin. "Is that your sister, Ingvar?"

"From what I've heard...nobody gets shot up as much as he does." Abigail isn't in the wing, but the ship is small, and stories are long, especially ones as storied as those surrounding the indestructible Gemenese pilot. "Two strawberry daiquiris, if they make them, if not two cold beers." Warm beers pave the road to hell. A glance over at the CAG, another Abigail doesn't know, "Everywhere is a dancing place, with the right partner, Sir."

"Didn't say it had to be vertically, Spider!" Aubrey calls back with a mischevious grin. She looks over at Abigail and points at her. "Right?"

"I hear you, Sir. Much rather be in the thick of it than bored to death while everybody else is gett'n the glory and action." He drinks his cider and studies the others. "I'm going to walk around and hit the water. Enjoy." Now he's finishing up what he wanted from the bar, Dundonnell starts to head out to see what else is going on at this party.

Webb arches his eyebrows at Aubrey. "Since it's a party I'm just going to pretend I didn't hear that, Banshee," he says with a little laugh, before nodding to Dundonnell. "Enjoy, mate." He gets his drink and starts sipping it.

"Congratulations," Katja says as she lifts her strange drink up, eyes flicking from Jonas to Erin. "Honestly I really wasn't paying much attention to the ceremony," she admits as she glances at the others littered about. "How many of us are there?" Her eyes catch Leonie's gaze for a moment and then slip back down to her drink as she lifts it for another sip.

Abigail leans back, giving the CAG a once over, mostly, one would suspect, because she won't have to pay for it later. He's not the boss of her! A stage-whisper to Aubrey, as she leans back the other way, "I'd hit that. Twice."

Jonas is getting friendly Aquarian abuse tonight, it seems, as the Marine grunts at the kick. "Yeah, it is. But because you kicked me, you have to introduce yourself." he says with a snort as he orders the daquiris.. well, what he ends up with is a strawberry liquer with some run and a few ice cubes crushed and added in, a limoncello for Leonie, and a shot of whiskey for himself.

Aubrey laughs merrily and murmurs to Abigail. "I know, right? Don't know why so many pilots seem to have it in for him. He seems like he can roll with the punches. He is certainly easy on the eyes. Aroo." She takes her drink from the tender and sips it through a straw. It has a little umbrella.

"More, I think, than one'd expect." Erin shrugs her shoulders. "Then again, not much else for Aquarians to do but fight." She crosses her arms. "There's another Marine I know of -- Lyn Arda -- from Aquaria. Then there's me, Ingvar, Ingvar's sister -- and you, that I know of." Then, the brunette looks at Leonie. Up at her, just a little. "Hi. I'm Hayes, your brother's -- " She shrugs. " -- I don't know, friend? Critic? Compatriot. Sister in arms, or something."

Then, offhand to Katja: "I think I need another drink."

Webb just sits at the bar, sipping his drink and looking pretty.

Abigail accepts the drink with a words of thanks to Jonas, settling in to people watch, as per usual, with Aubrey. The drink she mostly leaves untasted, standing tilted, as she is, back against the bar, one hand resting lightly on Jonas' hip, "Well, I don't know. What's his personality like? I mean, maybe he looks good, but once he opens his mouth, if he was laying on top of it, you'd want to chew your arm off to get away from him?"

Leonie winks at the glance from Katja. Her gaze slips across the pretty CAG and back to Erin, and she dimples a smile for her fellow Aquarian. "Hayes." She sticks her hand out, fingers cold and slightly damp from being wrapped around her glass. "Something works. I'm Leonie." She tugs self-consciously at her bikini top with her free hand.

"Fill in brat." Jonas offers helpfully for Erin as he grins a little as he feels Abigail's touch. "Oh, I wasn't paying attention. Need a napkin for Aubrey's salivations?" he asks with a smirk.

"If I didn't think he'd put me on latrine duty for it, I'd go sit next to him and tell him how pretty he is," Aubrey quips cheerfully to Abigail. She eyes the pseudo-daiquiri with trepidation after the first tip. "We might just want those beers Abby. As for his personality, I've only really been around him in the air and briefings and such." She cocks her head at Jonas. "Think I should tempt fate and possibly having to clean the showers and go sit with the CAG?" This is what happens when Jigger isn't around to keep his wingman in check!

"I know regs are pretty loose, Banshee, but I think the 'frakking the chain of command' rule is still pretty much in place." Jonas offers dryly as he drains back the shot of whiskey and lets out a breath. "Just saying."

Aubrey is her oldest, her most dearest, her most significantest and most important friend. There is no doubting this. Abigail would run through a field of landmines to save her. The mere suggestion of tempting fate by chatting up the CAG. That's an actionable offense right? One that she should be protected against a all costs. So what else would one expect to come out of Abigail's mouth, but, "Do it." Completely dead pan. "I dare you."

Erin casually ignores Jonas. It's probably best that way. And all of the talk about getting it on with Webb? That must be why she gets a cold shiver up her spine. She turns around to the bartender, and then gestures at her. "Bourbon, please." Enter BSG equivalent. "Make that a double. Straight. Hurry." If Erin's ears could spin about to hone in on whatever Aubrey plans to say to Webb, well, they'd swivel. Hard. As this is physiologically impossible, the recon Marine simply settles in and watches from afar. "This. This may be worth the dress I bought." Sidelong to Leonie and Katja.

Katja's eyes push upwards slightly over the top of her drink as she grins. Then she nods to Erin in acknowledgement. At Erin's side comment, she chuckles softly and says, "I'll get you a rum and soda," she offers before stepping up to get the bartender's attention to order a drink near Jonas, letting the other two women make introductions.

Aubrey sighs melodramatically and flips her hair back off one shoulder. "I hate you, Abby. I better get one of those 'Forgot-to-duck' medals for my sacrifice," she mutters, as she takes her crappy drink off the bar and hip-sways her way to where Webb is, sliding onto the stool beside him. She leans in to whisper, "A marine just dared me to tell you how pretty you are. I couldn't back down in good conscience, being air crew and all. So you're very pretty Webb. I'd love to dance. Please don't make me clean toilets for this." She bats her lashes at him.

"Love you too, Bree." Abigail flashes Aubrey a winning smile as she watches the brunette head off to her doom, offering, in an aside to the Jonas and the gathered, "Did she say duck...or dick?" This is why you do not let Pican girls get together in packs! A glance to the bartender, as she prepares Aubrey's eulogy drink menu, "Two beers, cold as you have." She does watch the proceedings as the approach is made, "I do feel I shall be cleaning latrines in sisterhood and solidarity very soon."

"Uh. She does anything you dare her to do?" Jonas asks Abigail. "Because if that's the case, I have ideas." said in a playfully wicked way, he lays down a five cubit bill on the counter. "She gets latrine duty for a month."

Speaking of Erin's dress, Leonie steals a brief glance once she's re-established her lazy lean against the bar. She muses, and she sips her drink once it arrives, with a saccharine smile shot her brother's way in thanks. Unfortunately she doesn't know the pretty CAG from a hole in the wall, yet, so it's with an outsider's faint bemusement that she watches what transpires.

"We're both mad fools." Daring is a dangerous thing in the blended Naxos/Walker family. A hand slips into her pocket, as she pulls out a fiver, setting it down on top of Jonas', "Six weeks, with laundry detail." With Abigail's luck, Mercer will hear about this and then all bets will be off.

"It'll be the only way she gets in his pants." Jonas quips.

To the betting pool, Erin murmurs simply, "I think Spider's going to comply." Shrug. "What does he have to lose?" She shifts where she leans, before unceremoniously reaches to the waistband of her shorts, her dress be damned, and tugs at it. "These frakkin' things are, I swear, like taping up your sensitive parts. Frakkin' uncomfortable things." Grunt. And then, her drink -- drinks -- come, and Erin says to Katja, "Thanks." Then, she looks back to the show. And Leonie, for a second, as if she's not sure if the blonde is really Jonas' sister.

Katja finishes off her first drink and snatches the cherry up to pop into her mouth and returns to her spot to notice Erin already with a drink in hand, so she just keeps it handy for her. She's not nearly as invested in what's going on with the betting and the who? Spider? Not nearly as much as Erin is. Instead, she ends up looking back at Leonie, and then where Leonie's looking. She wets her lips while she smiles slightly. "I don't think we actually met," she offers and steps forward to hold out her hand. "Katja Madsen or Deathwish."

Webb squints at Aubrey when she comes over and declares him pretty. He shifts himself on the barstool to face her. "I like to dance too. With my wife," he says with a stern side-eye. "So you've had your laugh. Now go on back to whatever knob put you up to it before you do end up on latrine duty."

Gulp. Aubrey's smile gets very crazy strained at that. "Sorry, sir," she meeps out, then turns tail and rushes back to the cluster of friends. "Frak! He's married! No one told me he was married!" she hisses at Abigail and everyone betting around her.

Leaning over to the bartender, Jonas whispers a little order, and settles back in. Watching, the bartender gives a knowing smirk and mixes together several items, including peach and rum and pineapple and orange juice. He puts in a little candy shaped like a Viper, and when Aubrey returns, he lights it on fire. "One crash and burn for the Fireball."

Abigail has the good grace to look mostly sorry, as she sees Aubrey head back to the group, though she does give Webb another glance, as his marital status is revealed, "Really? He looks younger than we do. When do Virgons get married? When they're toddlers?" Well, given the Virgon monarchy...it could be a thing. "A drink for you, and I'll take your work cleaning detail assignment for the next two weeks." Never let it be said that Abigail sets Aubrey out on the alimb, and then isn't there to catch her in the end.

"In my defense, Banshee, I had no idea. I don't know the man at all." Erin shrugs and seems oh-so-cool about the affair. She didn't egg the other woman on, after all. But, now she has her double-straight bourbon, and another drink, and, well -- the alcohol in the first may be settling into her.

Regarding the heavier drink, the diminutive scout takes a sip, and then another. "Now, this is better," she murmurs to no one in particular.

Leonie actually snickers a little at Aubrey's rotten luck. Figures the CAG has a wife. She gulps her drink when she sees the woman returning, and looks over as Katja addresses her. "No, you're right, I don't think we did." The hand is grasped and squeezed. "Deathwish? Wow." She looks sidelong at the other pilot. "I can't tell if that's meant to be ironic." A beat. "Axion." Since they're on a callsign basis.

"Man there wasn't even a chance to bail out," Aubrey mutters. She takes the drink, waiting for it to stop flaming before she imbibes. "Pretty sure I left a trail of the ashes of my confidence all the way back here," she adds with a chuckle. She perches back on a stool beside Abigail and takes a long swig of her drink. "I blame Jigger for not being over here watching my six!"

"You live in fame or go down in flames, brunette pilot." Since Aubrey seems to have him distilled down to blonde guy, Jonas returns the favor.

"I have never known you to bail out of anything, Aubrey Naxos. I feel you held up admirably well. Also...as to our previous conversation, it really must be the coyote personality." She reaches out, accepting the beers as they're delivered, pushing one towards Aubrey as a drink chaser. "So you'd have sent him in in your stead? I feel there still would have been no dancing."

Katja pulls her hand back and chuckles a bit as she takes in the farce in the background for a spell, before looking back to Leonie. "Well it's not like I asked for it," depending on one's definition of 'asking for it.' Katja just smiles vaguely. "Nice to meet you Axion. You have a real name or do I not get to ever call you that?" She looks back towards Erin, and seeing her preoccupied with her drinks, says, "On second," to Leonie as she retreats back to Erin to offer to take the neglected drink with a soundless arch of her eyebrows.

Webb finishes off his drink. His ears must've been burning, for he gives a wry smirk over at the table with Banshee and the others on his way out, heading down toward the beach to swim.

Compliant, Erin hands over the drink that Katja had brought her earlier. She winks, and then says quietly, "I'm going to see who's playing Pyramid." Beat. "I mean, if that's all right. If you don't mind." And then a pause. An awkward one.

Bourbon in hand, then, the Erin with the bikini under her dress mosies her way on out of the bar. Sort of hastily, as if Aubrey's failed attempt somehow made the air uncomfortable to be in. Some people just don't like watching others getting shot down. Eh.

"No, he'd just have made me dance with him or something instead, to save me from latrine duty. Jigger is the best wingman ever." Aubrey grins. "As long as he doesn't win our bet racing to double ace. If he does, then he'll be the absolute worst." And hey! Jonas hasn't impressed her yet. She kicked his ass in the arcade! She watches Webb go, blushing a little, which is not a common occurence. Usually her reads on guys are so good!

Leonie absently watches Erin make her awkward exit, warm gaze returning to Katja a moment later. "Nope. Just Axion." Cue a mischievous smile. Assuming Jonas doesn't ruin her fun and provide her name.

"I feel I will have to speak to him. Make him aware of the dangers inherent in the two of us being together." Because this is a thing. "I'd offer to fix things up, but they'd never let me near the deck." And she's never really consider sabotage. "But something squishy in his boots?" Or in the seat of his flight suit..."Let me know if you need me to be creative." Abigail finally picks up the beer herself, no longer quite cold enough to make it tolerable, but he. She'll take a sip, attention shifting to the other pair still at the bar. "I feel the Marines are losing the battle."

Jonas has no plans to ruin Leonie's fun. "Our parents were scientists, and she's their little molecule." Jonas offers no help. "She was all of two pounds or something when she was born." Feeling the touch on his side, as he takes a drink, and reaches down to touch Abigail's bare side in return. "We don't lose, we just tactically retreat to our hotel room to regroup." he points out to Abigail with a waggle of his brows.

Rothschild has done something with her bottle of ambrosia so that she walks into the bar completely empty-handed. She looks to be in deep conversation with a fellow Marine, and there's something almost flirtatious about their interaction, and the Leonese noblewoman nods and the two depart, and she seems to hone in on where the other Marines are, heading toward Abigail and Jonas.

"Oh yeah, we have hotel rooms tonight!" Aubrey lets out a whoop at that. "A real bed! I'm going to roll around in and tell it nice things for not being a rack in the Vanguard!" She takes another gulp of her fruity drink.

Katja takes the drink from Erin and offers her a casual shrug after Erin's awkward pause. She watches the woman leave with slight hint of amusement and then steps back closer to Leonie, appropriated drink in hand. "So that's how it's going to be then?" Katja nods and then tilts her head to the side. "Okay." Two can play at this game. She doesn't seem bothered at all chatting the woman up in front of her brother. The pilot takes a quiet long sip of her drink.

Abigail's grin, in answer to Jonas' brightens her face, and the change of subject seems to derail, mostly, any thought of having failed so terribly at chatting up Webb. Probably for the best really. Never good to dwell on defeat. "One more night of freedom, and not an eavesdropper in sight. You bunking in with anyone?" Because these are the sorts of questions you're allowed to ask! A tip of her chin, as she turns far enough to catch sight of Rothschild, "Ah, re-enforcements."

Leonie rolls her eyes at Jonas and his molecule talk. In between sips of her drink, "It's actually a hypothetical particle whose existence is under debate, but could potentially answer questions about both quantum chromodynamics and cold dark matter." Yes, it's a mouthful, but she doesn't so much as break stride. After her sip, a swallow. "Technically, I think you're outnumbering us," she tells Abigail mildly. Katja just gets a beatific smile.

"No one has made me an offer, sadly," Aubrey grouses. "Think Jigger would?" she arches a brow at her sister by choice curiously.

"Do you need an extraction, Able?" Rothschild chuckles as she slides in beside Abigail. The woman wears beach casual pretty well in her long, slim-fitted pants that end in simple sandals and the halter-top style tunic that flows around the hems and dips low along her back to reveal the bandeau-style bikini top. "Or do you need another kind of assistance?" There's that winning smile that has been captured in photos all over the Colonies, but it at least seems genuine instead of press-ready.

"I'm sure if you asked, he won't tell you he's married." Jonas points out casually as he rolls his eyes at Leonie's long-winded explanations. "<<Nerd.>>" is said in Leonese as he grins at Rothschild. "Ah, the cavalry is a beautiful one tonight. Hey, Pinup, because Praety is just too hard to say with as much as we already drank."

Abigail, for a wonder, gives the question serious thought, "I think it would depend on how you phrased the question, possibly. And if you were sure it wouldn't get awkward after." Egging her on to chat up the CAG is one thing. Frakking up a wingman thing is serious business, "Cute though, and seems to think the world of you." A grin, for Rothschild, as she comes up, "Well, I feel we're evenly matched at the moment, but the night i still young, and this is only my first beer."

"Does that mean your existence is up for debate?" Katja idly wonders after Leonie spews out endless science words. The Leonese catches her attention, stealing her vision sidelong towards Jonas before returning to Leonie. Rothchild gets a spare glance as she arrives, but nothing more than that for the moment.

"I'm gonna need a lot more booze before I have the guts to go down in flames again," Aubrey quips. She holds up a hand to Abigail, "I'd be sure to let him know it couldn't be for long, because I'm contractually obligated to marry your brother some day," she notes. She says it gently, a word to insist Addison is still alive somewhere. She smiles at Rothschild. "Praetorian," she greets. "See, I'm not drunk enough yet."

Those red lips -- ah, so good to be back with the red lips! -- smile again, but this time at Jonas. "Ah, are you trying to rebrand me, Ingvar?" The brunette is amused, but accepting of the variation on her callsign. "The Leonese worked very hard on my brand, and the Colonial Forces harder still." She smirks. "Better be careful, or when they start sniffing around the new poster line for the Timber Wolves, I'm going to volunteer you." Because apparently being at the beck and call of the Colonial Forces PR Department is a worthy punishment. Then Rothschild looks back to Able, and she chuckles. "I'm happy to turn the odds." She then looks up as the bartender comes by, and she leans in to put in her order, "Double shots of rum." She headcounts, including Katja and Leonie even if they are pilots. "Six of them."

"I dunno, Rothschild, Aubrey and Gale did their own fair share of pinup work." Now that would be a calendar worth subscribing to. Jonas gives a grin at the order of shots. "And here I thought I was going to buy all night because of that silly Silver Cluster." he offers with a little snort.

Abigail offers a sagenod, only the faintest tightening of her eyes indicating her response to the mention of her twin, "Well, I do approve of the cultivation of future ex-husbands." A flash of a grin, in Rothschild's direction, "I fully and completely support this idea." See, Jonas!? She'll throw anyone under the bus. Her hands rise, gathering up her hair, twisting it into a messy bun and tying it with an elastic from around her wrist. She's got enough mobility back in her arm to manage that, And she's mostly all healed, save for a couple few new bruises in the area of her neck and shoulder. They do not seem rocket-induced. "I don't think the CF would get many serious recruits with pictures of Bree and I with our tits practically hanging out. But I'm willing to give it a shot."

Leonie smiles a little at Katja's suggestion, and shakes her head. "No, silly. It's a play on.. being sneaky. Logic dictates it must be there, yet we can't find it." She swirls her glass in a vague gesture meant to underscore her assertion. "You see, if magnetic monopoles exist, then there must be a symmetry in Maxwell's equations where the electric and magnetic fields can be rotated into each other with the new fields still satisfying Maxwell's equations. Right?" Right? Rothschild and her considerably more stylish ensemble draw an enviable glance from the bikini-clad pilot.

"Yes, but this is oh-so patriotic." There's something tight in those words, edging on sardonic. "And you will certainly enjoy the extra work. For example, in just about an hour, I'm expected to go to a press conference to share news of the glorious victories on Canceron -- from a soldier's perspective." She nods and smiles to the bartender when he delivers the shots, and she disperses them amongst her peers. "And I've already been sent my answer cards, each polished neatly by the brass. So fun." She does laugh at Abigail's blunt description, and she shakes her head. "Maybe we should suggest a Colonial Forces: Women of the Service calendar." She smirks a bit.

"Surfing stuff, though. Not Colonial Forces pew pew join up stuff," Aubrey replies to Jonas' comment. "My awesomely toned ass may be great for boosting morale, but recruiting?" she gives a so-so sign with her hand.

"I dunno. Some camo cammies, big guns, strategically placed camo paint..." Jonas offers with a waffle of his hand. "Be a real.. morale booster." he points out as he half-watches Leonie to make sure she doesn't get too sloppy.

Katja doesn't notice that rum is being ordered for her in the headcount. "So you could say that your enemies debate your existence. They must know you exist but they never see you. I know of Maxwell's equations." But is she really following the other pilot? One prolonged sip and nod to Leonie's conclusion doesn't really shed much light onto that. She just smirks behind her drink at having still managed to pull her original theory back into it.

"Shots, shots are good," Aubrey murmurs, taking the one Rothschild bought and raising it to her. "To the damn finest looking women in the colonies shooting up toasters!" she offers up to the group. Then she slams the shot back.

"The calendar actually might not be a bad idea. Remember the water rescue service back home...they used to do one for charity every year. Could he a hell of a lot of charities these days that could use the funds." Now you know Abigail has had more than she should, nevermind she hasn't even finished a single beer. "I am down for this idea."

Rothschild raises her shot glass to the toast, chuckling slightly as she does. "Toas." The Leonese toasting word is perhaps a bad choice here on Scorpia, but she does it anyway. She then downs the shot in one smooth go. Yup, having to meet with the press is definitely the Praetorian's favorite thing in the worlds. Then she sets her shot glass down, upside down.

Alain walks up the beach, sans his precious bottle and ribbon. He must've found somewhere safe to stash them on what's a dangerous night for a good bottle of ambrosia. It's probably why he's headed to the bar for something to drink in its place, spotting the group doing shots and angling in that direction.

Leonie twists around to collect her shot, and lifts it for Rothschild's toast. She's not familiar with the word, but there's no mistaking the sentiment. Down the hatch it goes, her dark lashed eyes flicking sidelong to her brother for a moment as if to make sure there are no disapproving looks coming from his direction. Talk about cramping her style.

Aubrey spots Jigger making his way to the bar and she swallows. "Oh frak. Should I go ask him? I dunno if I'm drunk enough to get shot down again." She tips her glass to her lips and chugs the rest of her Crash and Burn. Liquid courage. Then she waves her wingman over to the group.

When her rum shot makes it around, Katja lifts it up to toast, "Thank you whoever you are," as she looks and spots Rothschild, vaguely remembering her doing her counting thing. "Toas," she joins in with a flawless accent before kicking it back and leaning to set it back down on the bar. Then she starts to look around at the others, picking up on some of the conversation.

"Don't ask. Go aggressive. All guns blazing." Jonas offers, "Lock onto those lips and mmmm.." he murmurs as he moves to lean up to kiss Abigail's cheek. "Toas." he knows that word as well.

Abigail takes the shot, downing it and offering a thank you to Rothschild, before she looks over at Aubrey, "I'll go ask him. Remind me what I'm asking him? 'Alain, want to dance?' or is it, 'Alain, want to roll around on my bed like puppies?'" See? She'll take one for the team!

Rothschild glances toward Alain when Aubrey points him out, and she arches up a fine dark brow. "Would you like me to kiss him for you, Banshee?" She looks at the pilot with a wry little smile. She then looks over to Leonie and Katja -- two new faces -- and she squints slightly at Katja as if something has struck her. "Leonese?" She tilts her head, taking careful stock of the woman as if trying to decide something. After all, there are only two types of Leonese -- the Citizens and the nots.

"Both? If I'm gonna be stuck in those stupid little racks for gods knows how long starting tomorrow, I want to make good use of the free hotel room!" Aubrey murmurs to Abigail in a stage whisper. She is clearly tipsy, but not drunk. She blinks owlishly at Rothschild. "If you do that there's no way he's coming back to my room. I mean, I'm hot but you're..." She gestures at Praety. "Stacked like a frakking library."

Jigger, bless him, has absolutely no clue he's being talked about. That doesn't mean he doesn't sense the tone of at all, glancing back and forward as he steps within earshot of the group. "We're onto shots already? Did I miss that much? I was busy trying to get the Colonel to spill where we're heading next."

Setting his hand on Abigail's hip, Jonas stays her. "This one is mine. Stacked and everything." See, there it is? He can actually wants the girl. "Hey Jigger, Banshee wants to ride you like a 25 cent rocket outside a grocery store. Interested?" See /he'll/ ask.

"Thanks for the shot," Leonie tells Rothschild, and pushes off the bar finally as Aubrey prepares to make approach number two of the night. "Think I'm going to go for a swim." To Katja and Abigail, "Nice to meet you." Her brother just gets an elbow to the ribs before she departs.

Rothschild's red lips quirk into a smile at Jigger's words. "Another shot for the Lieutenant," she says to the bartender. She then looks back to Jonas when he gets right to it, and she bursts into laughter then -- probably the first time the Praetorian has really laughed in a while. Manages to offer Leonie a smile and wave in response, though she's looking back to Jonas and Alain with interest. "Well, Banshee... at least you'll know." She then offers Alain his double shot of rum, as if she knows he's going to need it.

"My mother married an Aquarian fisherman," as if that's all a Leonese would need to know to peg Katja for what she is, well that and the Aquarian accent. She looks back Leonie when she speaks and shoots her a soft grin, but doesn't say anything in return. She sips at her spiked cola and looks back to Rothschild. "\I spent many summers there though.\" Again, the accent in Leonese is flawless and natural.

Abigail was so just about to handle things, Pican style, when Jonas pulled the rug out from under her. If she wasn't so shocked, she'd chime in. Instead, she just...sort of stands there, waiting to see the fall out. This time it was totally not her fault.

Aubrey stares at Jonas, mouth dropped open, eyes wide, somewhere between shocked and horrified, which is a new sensation for the no-holds-barred flirty Picon surfer-cum-pilot. She looks back to Jigger, then reaches into the pocket of her shorts and pulls out a 25 cent piece. As if to confirm the desire for a ride.

"Uhhhh..." yes, that's Alain's response to Jonas' oh-so-eloquent proposal. It's a good thing Rothschild's handing him that shot, because yes, he downs it -- double shot and all -- with barely a cough. It gives him time to field a comeback to Jonas, though: "Are you asking because she thinks you're only a 10 cent rocket?" He glances at Aubrey, and the 25 cent piece, and coughs.

"She can't afford the cubit, and Abigail's already claimed it." Jonas offers straight laced. "But hey, if you want to say no, I think Rothschild was offering to step in for her."

"Mmm." Rothschild nods gently to Katja. She slips gently into her own Leonese, smiling slightly as she does, "Aquaria. You must tire of the symapthies, but I'm sorry about what has happened to your home." She nods slightly. "Summers are the best times to visit." She grins then before she returns to Colonial Standard. "I'm Eudora Rothschild. Welcome to the Timber Wolves." She then flickers her eyes to the nonsense happening just over her shoulder. "And all of our eccentricities."

"Yeah. We're Pican...but we're not that Pican." Truthfully, nobody is that Pican, but there's a reason the fantasy of Picon draws in tourists. The reality is slightly more mundane. "Beer Chaser?" She turns, to try to grab the beer Aubrey may or may not have started. She wasn't really watching.

Aubrey glances over at Abigail at Jigger's coughing. "I'm gonna get a complex here," she mutters. "Ahem. I think that's my cue to leave. I clearly need all the beauty sleep I can get," she announces, before flipping the piece to the bartender as a tip and shuffles her twice burned tailfeathers back towards the resort hotel.

"Thank you." Katja smiles briefly, but it doesn't reach her eyes. "They were always quite lovely." She reaches up to brush her hair out of her eyes, tucking it behind her ear. "Katja Madsen. Or Deathwish. Yeah what exactly is really going on here? I've been trying to figure it out, but not too hard."

"Speaking of sleep and lack of, Abigail. Want to get out of here and see if we can keep each other up all night?" Jonas asks quietly. "All those Pican rumors have to have some truth to them." There's a wink at her as he moves to rise to his feet, as he waits to see if Abigail wants to come with, or go comfort Aubrey.

It's a good bet Alain doesn't really hear Jonas' response, because he's awkwardly watching Aubrey depart, rocking back and forth on his bare feet for a moment. After a beat of apparent indecision, he steps up to the bar, holds up two fingers -- double -- and downs whatever the bartender gives him.

"Mating rituals," Rothschild says bluntly as she looks over at the gathered marines and pilots. She then quirks a smile to Katja. She then looks over to Alain, brow lifting slightly. "Though not terribly success ones." She then shakes her head ruefully.

"You should take that one to go, Jigger." That's all Abigail is saying, as she nods to Jonas. She doesn't leave immediately, though, instead taking a moment to steal the bartender's pen, a scrap of napkin and a few seconds to scribble a number down. The end product she leaves next to Jigger's hand, before she heads back towards the hotel, hand slipping into Jonas'.

Tavo hasn't even managed to work up a sweat on the pyramid court, much to his disappointment. He did, however, manage to spill something exceptionally high proof over his left hand. Sure, it's mostly evaporated already despite the humidity, but that still leaves his hand sticky. He makes his way to the bar, raising up a red cup that was recently much more full to get the bartender's attention, "Got a wet rag I can borrow?" He glances down the bar, lifting the cup up in salute.

With an exhale Jigger pushes away from the bar, but Abigail's last minute inclusion has him glancing at her, lips pressing together. He uses the napkin as, well, a napkin, as he orders his second glass, taking a seat at the bar next to Rothschild.

"More like a wreck. I think I heard something about money in there somewhere," Katja remarks somewhat quietly to Rothschild. "I owe you a drink now. A small one," she says as she holds up her empty shotglass and then leans to deposit it on the closest surface. She takes in the new comers with passing interest and watches the chain reaction of departures. "But maybe some other time. I heard there's some Pyramid around here?"

Rothschild tilts her head slightly when she spots Tavo enter. She lets him approach the bar unaccosted, brow arched a bit. Her gaze diverts back to Katja, and she chuckles. "There is." She points to Tavo. "He's the one to ask about it. Ten cubits says he just came from there." She then turns a bit toward Alain as he settles in beside her, and she offers him a welcoming smile. "It's Jigger, right?" Marine after all. "You're looking a bit abused, darling." The Leonese accent is light and warm, and the diminutive offered in casual kindness.

Well, that's one way to get Tavo interested in the conversation. As he wipes his hand down with the rag provided by the bartender, he looks over to Katja, "Don't bet her. She's mean when she wins bets." And then he shrugs, gesturing back out to the beach, "We were shooting around for a bit. Most people seemed more interested in drinking." For such a big man, his voice is actually within a normal baritone register, rather than the sort of bass that tries to shake the earth.

"Mmhm," Jigger's tapping his fingers against his glass, confirming the marine's guess with a glance at Rothschild and the woman beyond her, nodding to both. "Nothing a few drinks won't fix, eh?" He gives a nod to Gustavo, too.

"Not worth the bet. You have the upper ground," Katja says with an appreciative upward twitch of her lips. "There was a girl I met earlier who said she was going to go play Pyramid. Probably super drunk, sundress. Her name was..." Katja's eyes squinch up slightly and she finishes off her drink. "I should probably just go look for her. That said, if you start up a game later and see me about, hit me up," she says with a nod towards the burly man before depositing her glass on the bar and then moving off.

"Quite." Rothschild chuckles lightly. She considers the pilot for a moment, and then she settles into a warm smile. She nods to Katja as she says her farewells, watching her move off to find the girl who was off to play pyramid. Then she stretches her shoulders a bit, considering Jigger once more. "I hope you're not drinking because of that nonsense with Able." She gestures after where Abigail went.

Tavo nods to Katja, "Only woman there wasn't drunk, wasn't going to get drunk. She must've gotten lost. I'll let you know." And then she's off before he can even ask her name, and Tavo just shrugs a little helplessly. He then eyes Jigger sidelong for a moment, then shakes his head, "Booze only fixes things temporarily." He is, however, forced to admit, "The temporary fix can be nice though." Without an invitation, he pushes down to belly up to the bar on the other side of Jigger from Rothschild, "Girl trouble? Or guy..."

Alain, too, watches Katja depart, brow furrowing as if trying to place the departing pilot. "Nope," he replies easily to Rothschild, lips twisting, "It's just a night for drinking." When the other marine sits down on his other side and adds his opinion, the pilot grimaces. "I get that things are way more relaxed in the CF, but..." his shoulders shift, as he drums fingers onto the bartop. "Anyway. Tell me, what're you two planning to do with your bottles of ambrosia?"

"I can agree to that," Roths chuckles when Jigger claims it is just a night for drinking. His opinion though is greeted with her own frown. "Hmph." She glances to where the pilots and marines have dispersed, and then she shrugs. "I think Aubrey just has a little crush on you, is all." She quirks a small smile toward the pilot, but then the question of the ambrosia makes her thoughtful. "Well... I don't know if I've even thought about it." She looks at Jigger. "What about you?"

Tavo raises his brows at Alain's grimacing words, starting to bunch his shoulders a little... and then the pilot continues, and he shrugs off the gathering tension, "Not so much. Plenty of bed-sharing in the Scorpian Army, as long as you're not anyone's direct report." But then he changes topic obligingly, "And I tried to set it up as stakes, see if anyone would give me a good game of pyramid. Too many people too concerned with getting drunk, apparently." He glances over to Rothschild then, asking of both of the others, "Isn't the usual pretty much 'drink it?'"

Jigger doesn't look that surprised by Rothschild's words. "Kind of figured, you know," he gestures towards the spaces where the group was just recently, glancing at Tavo for a moment. "I think I'm going to save it. For some day -- probably not too far in the future -- when shits about to get frakked, to remind myself about tonight," he gestures towards the beach, still full of the mixture of pilots and marines and support staff, "All of this, all of us."

Rothschild quirks a brow at Jigger. "What gave it away?" There's light humor to her words. She glances toward Tavo at his explanation of what he's doing, or trying to do. She chuckles. "You should have known that, Tavo." She looks back to Jigger, and starts to smile again. "Now that's a good use of ambrosia. Though, I hope that you never have to open it." Which is only setting them all up for having to, someday. She considers the beach and the fire and the distant roar of waves. "It is a good memory though."

Tavo grunts soft approval at Jigger's suggestion, "Well damn. Now I feel shallow." He chuckles, though, evidently joking. He nods at Rothschild's look out over the party, "That's how it goes, right? Come for the good memories, stay for the clan warfare?" That's more than a little dry, so he tosses down the remains of his drink before he turns to face away from the bar, resting his elbows atop it even as he grins over at the other sergeant, "And why should I have known everyone'd want to get drunk instead of sweat and pick up bruises? That's about the best thing to do, isn't it?"

"Yeah well. That's the beauty of it, right? It's positive either way -- being glad I never open it, or being glad I have it there to remind me of this." Jigger knocks aside his glass, and scrunches up the damp napkin underneath in his hand. "Anyway. Scorpia was fun, but time to find a new colony to get shot down over. Pretty sure it's not Sag or Virgon. Narrowing it down. Y'hear anything, let me know, eh?" He glances at Gustavo, wryly. "I mean, depends... were you offering to marines or pilots?"

"Well, aren't you just a philosophical oddity." Rothschild sounds almost delighted by that. She toys with her empty shot glass, and then sets it aside. With her arms folded on the bar, resting into her elbows, she considers the pilot directly beside her and the other marine just beyond him. "I think I have an inkling, but I'd hate to be right. There's only a few that come to mind that would require our specific expertise."

Chuckling agreement with Rothschild's read on Jigger, Tavo nods, then responds to the pilot's question, "Anybody. I know you pilots are almost as crazy as Marines." Tavo grins toothily along with the cheerful words. Then, however, he sobers a little and notes, "It would be kind of nice to know if I need to pack any snivel gear." And then he looks back to the other Marine, lifting his brows, "Hottest place'd probably be Aquaria." Cylon-hottest, obviously, " And that would suck. Hard. Being cold sucks." He grunts, shaking off the complaint, "I'd say Caprica, but some of the other colonies would bitch if they got Cee-Eff help before someone else." And then he nods upwards toward Roths, "What do you say?"

"I--" Jigger looks like he's not sure how to take those words, especially with Tavo's chuckling agreement, and so he just coughs. "Some are even just as crazy as marine," the pilot says in agreement. He quirks a brow at Rothschild's latter words, a clear a request for more information, even if he does follow it up with, "Well? Share with the rest of the class."

Rothschild quirks a brow at the idea that she might be crazy, and she gives her pinned curls a bit of a bob with her hand. Then she rubs a fingertip under her vibrant red lower lip. "It won't be Aquaria, even if it perhaps should be... it will be Picon or Sagittaron." She is quick to defend the latter, as Jigger had said he didn't think it would be Sag. "A poor colony like Sagittaron would be both a wise move from a PR perspective as well as a tactical perspective. If the Cylons get hold of yet another Colony like they have with Aquaria, then that's quite a blow."

Tavo's eyebrows rise up slightly at Jigger's coughing response, "Do you bleed mud, sir?" It's a surprised question, perhaps even pleased to find a grunt among the flyboys. But then he's quickly turning his attention to Rothschild, and if his eyes follow the finger trailing over her bright lip, he's clearly thinking about what she said, "And the Picons and Capricans can defend themselves better than the Sagittarons or the Cancerons?" He grunts thoughtfully, nodding a little. "You might just be right, Pretty." There's a little flash of a grin there, and then he shrugs slightly, sobering again, "It sucks giving Aquaria up to the Cylons though."

There's an unvoiced, frak that is mouthed by Jigger, before he grimaces. He glances at Tavo briefly. "I was with ICJPK was on Sag for near on half a decade trying to settle down the civil war, and doing frak all. If anything'd get the other colonies riled it'd be stepping back into that ce-- place." Clearly, he doesn't have fond memories of his time as a grunt there. "Plus... I don't know, Mace's expression when I mentioned Sag... even he sounds like he'd struggle to go back there." He exhales. "Frak. If it is Sag, gonna need to pop that bottle sooner than I'd anticipated."

"Mmhmm." Rothschild nods to Tavo's thoughts on it, though she shrugs. Jigger's memories do cause her to arch her brows slightly. "It will be... quite an experience then. If it is, which I honestly do not have any insider information." Despite being a recruitment pawn, is unsaid in those words. She sighs then and starts to stand. "About time for me to report to the press conference. I'll need to smarten up a bit." Because wearing beach attire is probably not what is expected of her. She gives Jigger's shoulder a passing pat in a companionable kind of way, and Tavo's shoulder gets a more emboldened squeeze as a fellow Marine. "Enjoy the rest of the night. Soon, we will be back in the thick of it."

Tavo grunts at Jigger's description of his service, "I missed the Sag. For some godsawful reason the ICJPK put my ass back on Scorpia. And then over to Canceron later. I heard Oran and Sypra in particular sucked hard." Rothschild's words draw his brows up sharply, "You've got a damned press conference?" He grins sympathetically as she squeezes his shoulder, "I thought you got all dolled up for us, Pretty."

"I guess we all find out soon enough," Jigger says, just as surprised as Gustavo at Rothschild's words about a press conference. "Better you than, well, me." He pushes up from the bar, that napkin still in hand, giving a nod to each of them. "Take it easy, my friends. I'll save a finger of my ambrosia for you, should it turn out to be Sag." With a jaunty salute, he strolls off down the beach.

"Of course. I am the Praetorian, after all." Rothschild is almost tempted to strike one of her famous poses from the recruitment posters that circled there way all around the colonies. But she spares Tavo and Jigger, and instead just heads out to get herself back into uniform so she can be the CF's pawn for another day.


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